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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291425">The Care and Feeding of Feral Creatures</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish'>louciferish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Moving In Together, Pets, Post-Canon, Relationship Negotiation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:09:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After over a year of long-distance dating, Otabek moves to St. Petersburg to live with Yuri for a summer as a trial run. Yuri expected it to be easy, which was stupid of him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Care and Feeding of Feral Creatures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I originally drafted this for the upcoming <a href="https://twitter.com/YOIPawsAndClaws">Pets Zine</a>, for which I'll be a guest writer, but I wound up scrapping the concept for the zine. What's a writer with a whole fic already written to do?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Where the hell are you?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>On the train<br/>Still<br/>I’ll be there soon</i>
</p><p>Yuri lets his head fall back against the hard plastic seat and drops his phone into his lap, where it dips into the gap between his thighs. He hates himself for being so impatient, but it feels as if he’s been waiting forever. </p><p>Technically, he and Otabek started planning this move two months ago, but in reality they’ve been talking their way toward it for more than a year. When that’s all considered, can he really call himself impatient for wanting it to be over now? </p><p>A fresh flow of passengers wanders in from the tracks, and Yuri sits up, scanning the crowd. It only takes him a minute to spot the familiar dark head mixed in among the crowd, a flash of golden eyes that makes Yuri’s heart race like he’s stepping onto ice at the World Championships.</p><p>He leaps from his chair, arm shooting up for attention. “Beka! Over here!”</p><p>-</p><p>Yuri keeps trying to slow himself down on the walk back to the apartment. Otabek’s legs are shorter than his now that he’s finished his last growth spurt, and Yuri can’t wait to get home. Beka is slowed, too, by the unfamiliar sights of St. Petersburg, and Yuri <i>wants</i> to linger, to show him everything in his adopted city, but more than anything, Yuri wants to show him the apartment -- <i>their</i> apartment now, and their home together for the next three months.</p><p>It’s a big step, living together. Yuri knows because Victor won’t <i>shut the fuck up</i> about reminding him of that. Some people, apparently, would be nervous about living with a boyfriend for the first time. Some people would worry about the change to their relationship. But not Yuri. Yuri’s brain has decided to worry about things like <i>What if he doesn’t like the sofa I picked out?</i> and <i>What if my local shop doesn’t carry his usual shampoo?</i></p><p>Apartment hunting had been its own kind of hell as Yuri tried to balance what he could afford with the stab of panic he’d get in his gut seeing the price tags on certain buildings. It had taken weeks of exhausting daily tours, often with Victor and Katsudon in tow, before he’d been able to settle on something that was in the right part of town, nice enough on the inside, and also reasonably priced. </p><p>Despite all his careful selection, he’s still nervous when he unlocks the door and throws it open, stepping back to let Otabek in first.</p><p>It’s kind of a letdown when Otabek only nods, drops his luggage on the living room floor, and collapses back onto the black leather couch. With his legs spread and shoulders rolling back, he looks like he’s settled in for the long term. </p><p>“What do you think?” Yuri prompts, then kicks himself for being so desperate.</p><p>“It looks just like it did on FaceTime. It’s nice.” Otabek lets his head fall back, lips twitching in a small, private smile. “It’s really nice.”</p><p><i>Yes</i>. Yuri keeps most of his celebration internal, but he can’t totally prevent himself from grinning. He definitely made the right choices. They’ve been in the door for less than five minutes and Otabek is already sprawled, clearly comfortable in his athletic shorts and a thin t-shirt. He looks more like he’s rolled out of bed than someone who just spent hours on a cramped train, like he’s lived here for weeks. There’s only one thing missing.</p><p>“We should take a photo,” Yuri says, digging out his phone to drop it on the old steamer trunk they’re using as a coffee table. “I’ll be right back.” Otabek grunts in answer, eyes half-closed as if he’s ready to drift off at any moment. </p><p>It’s only been a week since Yuri moved his own stuff in, but he already knows all of Potya’s favorite hiding places. This time, he finds her on the bathroom shelves, curled up into a ball and shedding long blonde hair all over the spare towels. She blinks and yawns when Yuri pokes the base of her tail, her pink sandpaper tongue curling behind her teeth.</p><p>“Come on, lazy,” Yuri coos as he scoops up her warm, soft weight. “Come meet your new friend.” </p><p>As cats go, Potya is incredibly chill. She’d adapted well to moving from Moscow to Lilia’s apartment, and she’d taken to both Lilia and Yakov as if she’d know them since kittenhood. So, Yuri has no concerns about how she’ll react when he totes her into the living room and drops her unceremoniously on Otabek’s lap. </p><p>The moment Potya’s feet touch Beka’s legs, Yuri senses he’s made a mistake. It’s like being in the air for a jump and recognizing the moment it starts to tilt out of control, where seconds feel like eternity. He’s going to crash. He can’t stop it.</p><p>Otabek’s whole body stiffens, and so does Potya’s. She hisses, ears flat. Before Yuri can intervene, she gathers herself, then makes a flying leap for freedom. Otabek shouts as she jumps, and then there’s the scramble of claws on floor at Potya skitters out of the room. </p><p>“Potya, <i>what the hell</i>?” Yuri yells after her. Otabek grunts. Dots of red are blooming on his thighs where his skin was exposed to Potya’s clenching claws. </p><p>“Shit,” Yuri hisses. “Hang on.” He dashes into the bathroom and rustles through his storage, pulling out one of the five first-aid kits his grandpa gifted him when he moved out, then returns to the living room. </p><p>He holds the box of bandages and antiseptic out to Beka like the world’s worst housewarming gift, and Beka accepts, ripping open a packet of wipes with his teeth to dab at the bright red streaks marring his legs.</p><p>“Sorry. I don’t know what got into her. She’s not usually like that with new people.” Head down, Otabek only shrugs and continues to fix his scratches. </p><p>“Have you been around any other animals lately?” Yuri asks. Across the living room, he can see Potya’s tail through the open bedroom door, a dark brush swishing back and forth where it pokes out from under the bed. “Maybe you smell like Katsudon’s dog or something, and she’s jealous.”</p><p>“It’s probably my fault,” Otabek says, voice careful and even. “I’ve never been much of an animal person.”</p><p><i>Not an animal person</i>? Yuri hears the words, but he can’t make them into any kind of sense. <i>Even Victor likes animals! Hell, even that weirdo Seung-gil has a dog.</i> “Why not?” Yuri blurts out, a tenth of his thoughts escaping his mouth.</p><p>Otabek places the last bandage on his leg, smoothing it with his fingers and not meeting Yuri’s eyes. “I did ask for a dog when I was younger, but my parents said we couldn’t afford both a pet and skating lessons, so I had to have one or the other.” He shrugs. “I picked skating.”</p><p>Well. That makes the situation a little more understandable, but only a little. Yuri can’t imagine what he’d have done if his granddad made him choose between the ice and a cat. There would definitely have been tears involved, though.</p><p>“Did you buy any groceries yet?” Otabek asks. Standing, he passes the first aid box back to Yuri. “The train was sold out of all the good snacks. I’m starving.”</p><p>Yuri perks up at that and grabs for Beka’s hand, tugging him toward the little kitchen. “Oh! We’re celebrating. I made pirozhkis!” He lets the excitement of the day pull him out of his earlier thoughts and into the possibilities.</p><p>Hours later, when the food is gone and Otabek’s bags are unpacked into their shared closet, Yuri lies in bed at stares into the darkness, listening to the novel rhythm of a second person breathing beside him. He’ll get used to it, just like he always adjusts to new noises in a new apartment, but for now it’s… weird.</p><p>Something flashes in the doorway, reflecting the light of a passing car outside, and it takes Yuri a heart-pounding second to recognize the glow of Potya’s eyes. He lets his hand drift over the edge of the bed, rubbing his fingers together as he calls her in a whisper, hoping for her familiar, warm weight to curl against his side.</p><p>She raises her head, sniffing the air, then backs away, receding into the dark hallway.</p><p>Yuri tries to ignore the flashing ache in his chest and the twist of his gut. He’s always thought cats had good instincts, that they could sense when someone was nice -- trustworthy. Yuri doesn’t know many people he’d trust as much as he does Beka, but… is he wrong? Does Potya know something he doesn’t?</p><p>He lies awake with those thoughts for a long time, listening to Beka murmur muffled Kazakh in his sleep. </p><p>-</p><p>It’s their first off day since Beka arrived, and yet Yuri couldn’t stop himself from waking up at six. He would have loved to sleep in, but, well, the alternative isn't bad either. He was able to escape the tangle of blankets he had made in the night without waking Otabek, and for the past couple hours he’s been stretched out on the couch, stroking a purring Potya. </p><p>Her soft weight on his chest is soothing, and his eyes drift closed off and on, her rumbling pulling him back toward sleep.</p><p>With a crack, the bedroom door opens, and Otabek finally emerges. His eyes are squinted almost closed and the longer part of his hair is standing straight up in the back, but he looks good in the morning -- compact, tanned muscle offset by a plain white tank top and dark green boxer-brief. He stretches, yawning loudly, and Yuri yelps.</p><p>Potya’s dug her claws in again. Before he can even shout at her, she disappears into the bathroom, and he hears the thunk of the cupboard door closing behind her.</p><p>“Sorry,” Beka mutters before stumbling into the kitchen, where Yuri can hear the clatter of cupboards and dishes, then the <i>click click click</i> of the gas stove igniting. Yuri swings his legs off the sofa and follows Otabek, unsurprised to find him starting a kettle. </p><p>“I was going to take you out for coffee,” Yuri says, trying his damnedest not to sound sulky. “There’s a cafe I found up the street that does the <i>best</i> breakfast. Well, actually Katsudon found the cafe, but that doesn’t mean it’s not good.”</p><p>“Sure.” Otabek doesn’t move to turn the kettle off.</p><p>“After that, there’s a park we can go to, or shops if you’re interested in clothes. Do you care about the tourist stuff? We can do tourist stuff if you want to. There’s some of it I haven’t seen yet.”</p><p>Otabek rustles through the cabinets again, pulling out a mug with a flaking floral pattern on the rim. “To be honest,” he says quietly, looking at the mug rather than Yuri, “I was hoping we could just relax today. Maybe next off day?”</p><p>“What?” Yuri bites his lip, scowling at the tile floor. He’s been planning how to show Beka around Piter for <i>weeks</i>. There was a Google Maps route and everything. He’s looked at it so often he memorized it. Now they’re finally together, and Otabek doesn’t want to leave the house?</p><p>“I just got here,” Otabek says softly, echoing Yuri’s thoughts. “It’s our first real day living together. Don’t you want to spend it with me?”</p><p>“Of course I do,” Yuri snaps, folding his arms. That’s exactly what he’s trying to do, after all, to spend time together getting to know their new city. </p><p>The kettle whistles, and Otabek grabs it, beginning to pour. “Do you want one?” he offers.</p><p>“Don’t bother,” Yuri mutters, still looking away. “I’ll go to the cafe on my own later.”</p><p>Since Yuri isn’t watching, he doesn’t see the way Otabek’s shoulders tense as he murmurs, “Oh. Okay.”</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It’s crazy how easy practicing with Beka is. Even when Yuri is lost in his music, oblivious to everything but the program elements and the scratch of his blades on the ice, it helps to have Otabek there. Yuri’s always had support from Yakov and Lilia, and even from Victor, Katsudon, and Mila, much as they tease each other, but there’s something different about looking over to the boards after a fall and finding Beka there, cheering him on.</p><p>Today was a <i>good</i> day for new choreography, and Beka’s brand new short program is building into something amazing. In fact, it’s almost too good. As they walk home from the bus stop together, Yuri thinks about that combination jump Otabek had marked and purses his lips. It’s a triple lutz, triple toe loop <i>for now</i>, but Yuri’s seen Beka developing quad lutz in practice. It won’t be triples for long. </p><p>They’re both drenched when they push through the front door, leftover heat from practice compounding with the summer sun on their walk, and Yuri wants nothing more than a damn shower. There’s an idea brewing in his head, thinking about Otabek’s combo. If he rearranges his own combos, changes his second quad from a toe loop to that flip he’s been practicing…</p><p>He looks up from setting his bag down on the bed to find Otabek already in the bathroom, shirt off, all muscle above athletic leggings that cling to his thighs. </p><p>Yuri swallows. “I wanted to shower.” He’s looking more at Otabek’s waist than at the tub.</p><p>“Sure. We can share, if you want.”</p><p>He doesn’t want. He wants to <i>think</i>, and he’s not going to be able to do that if Otabek is right up in his space the whole time, dripping wet and naked. That kind of thing might inspire Giacometti’s programs, but it’s not how Yuri works.</p><p>“No. I want to be alone.”</p><p>Beka shrugs. “Okay. You can go after me, then. I’ll be quick.” </p><p>A spark lights in Yuri’s chest. “What? No. Let me go first.”</p><p>“But your hair takes longer to--”</p><p>“But it’s my apartment,” Yuri snaps.</p><p>Otabek is silent, those inscrutable golden eyes focused on Yuri, unmoved, until Yuri looks away. “I thought we both lived here.”</p><p>Yuri feels his face heat. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to shower nearly so much as he wants to leave, to be anywhere but this room. “Fine. Take your shower,” he spits. He doesn’t stomp his feet when he leaves, but only because he doesn’t want the neighbors to complain.</p><p>As always, his frustration burns hot but flickers out quickly once he’s alone. He slumps onto the sofa, extinguished. He hears a creak, then a shower spray sputters to life in the bathroom, loud enough that he knows the door must have been left open, and he wonders if that’s an invitation. He’d already said no to sharing, but maybe…</p><p>Yuri flops on his side and muffles his face in the couch cushion, though the noises he’s making never pass his lips. <i>Why am I like this?</i> he growls to himself, eyes closed tight against the pillows. It had been a good day! Practice went well, and the walk home from the rink was warm, relaxed. Crossing the river, Yuri had reached for Otabek’s hand without thinking, and he’d been treated to one of those small, surprised smiles that Otabek rarely dished out.</p><p>How had it all gone sideways the moment they walked in the door?</p><p>He flops onto his back, and a twitching movement catches his eye. Potya. She’s on the bookcase, perched like a loaf on the top level. Her dark, fluffy tail trails over the edge and swings back and forth. Her eyes, narrow, are fixed on the bedroom door.</p><p>Sighing, Yuri stands up and walks over to her. He offers his hand, and she sniffs tentatively before nudging his fingers into a scratch. “Maybe this is just us,” Yuri tells her as she begins to purr. “Maybe you and I are only meant for each other.”</p><p>Potya closes her eyes in pleasure. If he was hoping for a response beyond that, he doesn’t get one.</p><p>-</p><p>It’s a rest day and yet, for some reason, Yuri is awake. It’s not even eight yet, which is abysmal. Anything before eight that isn’t skating ought to be illegal.</p><p>Beside him, Otabek is still sound asleep, curled on his side to face away from Yuri. His shoulder rises and falls evenly, and Yuri watches, biting his lip. He knows he’s been difficult, this past week. He’s maybe not the best boyfriend, or the easiest person to live with, so just having Otabek here -- still here, still in bed with him, despite all that -- forms into a physical weight in Yuri’s chest. </p><p>He slips from the bed, watching Otabek closely for signs he’s waking, but the other man doesn’t stir. Yuri creeps out, leaving the bedroom door open a few centimeters, concerned that the <i>click</i> as it closes might startle Beka from his dreams. </p><p>The apartment is in disarray, and Yuri picks up a few dirty glasses and plates from the living room on his way to the kitchen. With a muffled <i>mrrp</i>, Potya slinks out from beneath the couch, giving a big stretch and an equally huge yawn. She follows Yuri into the kitchen, so close to his ankles he has to watch her to keep from tripping. He dumps the dishes into the sink with the rest--he can do them later--and turns on the kettle before opening the fridge.</p><p>From the bottom shelf, a package of sausage stares up at him, and Yuri smiles. He and Beka had gotten the sausages from a local market two days prior, swearing they’d make them for breakfast the next morning, but practice schedules had soon foiled those plans. </p><p>Yuri might not be the cook his granddad is, but he knows a few things, like how waking up to the smell of a hot breakfast can go a long way to making someone feel happier, seen, and even loved. As he readies the pan and breaks the sausages free of their wrapping, Potya weaves between his ankles, voicing a steady purr, and once his hands are free of meat juice, he stoops to pet her. </p><p>He’d watched Victor and Katsudon move in together a couple years ago, and they’d made it seem so easy. They fit in one another’s space, and Makkachin clearly loved Yuuri. (Of course, Makkachin also loved everyone, even Yuri.) Part of him, perhaps, had expected his own move to go the same way. But when had he ever achieved anything with the same ease Victor did?</p><p>So, it’s more work he has to do now. That’s okay. Yuri’s used to fighting for what he wants.</p><p>On the stovetop, the sausages spit and sizzle, reminding him that he has work to do now to keep the breakfast from burning. After all their little tiffs these weeks, maybe charred sausages would be the last straw Beka needs to leave him. He focuses on turning them over, keeping them going as he digs out a fresh loaf of rye bread and cuts a couple of thick slices.</p><p>It’s a simple meal, and it takes less than fifteen minutes for everything to be done. Soon, the meat is cooling and the bread and mustard are out on the table. His own tea is finished steeping, and the kettle is hot again for a second cup. </p><p>Potya’s vanished again, probably back into the bathroom cabinet, so Yuri drops a couple sausage scraps in her bowl to cool, wipes his hands, and goes to wake his boyfriend up for breakfast.</p><p>But Otabek is already awake, and Yuri stops in the bedroom door when he notices why. Potya is perched on Otabek’s broad chest, her little paws moving up and down as she kneads at him, her eyes half closed. In contrast, Otabek is wide-eyed and staring, arms clamped to his sides like it’s a demon squatting on his chest instead of a kitten. </p><p>Yuri crosses the room slowly so he won’t startle the cat, then climbs into the bed beside Otabek, who looks at him with silent desperation. “She wants you to scratch her chin,” Yuri explains. “Like this.”</p><p>Reaching over, he picks up Beka’s hand and forms the fingers into a claw, showing him where to scratch beneath Potya’s head and how to move his fingers. Potya, always a slut for a good chin rub, leans into it hard and begins to purr.</p><p>A bit of Otabek’s fearful expression flickers away, a small, slow smile taking up residence on his face. “She likes it,” he says, wondering, as he continues to scratch. “What else does she like?”</p><p>Yuri nestles in closer and begins to point out all of Potya’s favorite spots. It’s okay that Otabek doesn’t know what to do yet. Sometimes, Yuri doesn’t know what to do either. They can teach each other the right tricks.</p>
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